


Dare the Clouds, Let the Heavens Divide.

by shelleystyles



Category: Union J (Band)
Genre: Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelleystyles/pseuds/shelleystyles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When George is afraid of the storm brewing up outside there's only one appropriate way in which Josh can distract him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dare the Clouds, Let the Heavens Divide.

It's been raining the entire week by the time they finally get a few days break. The chance to sleep all day and restore their energy levels.

Though, that's never really been an issue for George because, well, he's _George_ and always manages to have more than enough energy stored inside him somewhere.

George thinks it’s because he’s an actual real life monkey, just a lot more evolved than the ones at the zoo, the one’s that fling poo and pick fleas. And well, that’s what all humans are according to science, he supposes. So maybe it’s not just him. 

Jaymi's always telling him it's because he drinks so much coffee though. But George just tends to ignore him, the same way he always does when Jaymi or anyone else tries telling, or hinting, that he may have a slight caffeine addiction.

He reasons that 7 cups of coffee a day isn't going to result in any kind of harmful madness, thank you very much.

George hopes that's true anyway. He's not sure he could deal with the sly 'I told you so's. George doubts that Jaymi would even _try_ to make it sly actually.

But, getting back to the point at hand. _Rain_.

Fat drops of water pooling up into puddles and cascading like waterfalls down the gutters. Crashing heavily against the windows of homes and cars, soaking the ground and leaving slippery pavements caked in mud and other general city filth in it's wake.

George hates the rain. He had a friend once, used to tell him that rain was a thing of beauty. There were countless stories about it that he'd never had any interest in hearing. Really, who wants to listen to a story about rain in the first place? But they were friends, so out of an unspoken mutual respect he'd put up with it. 

This friend, told him about how there's something beautiful and soothing about rain and the typical grace that comes from it. Described it as 'little droplets of secrets from the heavens yet to be untold. She may have been a little bit crazy, actually. And he hates rain, so he doesn’t believe her. Not one bit.

George presses his face against the glass, the cool surface providing a small bout of relief for his oncoming headache, the pressure of it calming the jittery nerves that run through him even though it’s not that heavy yet. He knows what’s to come though, he’d thought ahead and read the weather warnings.

He peers outside the window, eyes squinting through the darkness. There's not much to be seen at this time. It's late, or maybe early, rather, and everyone else is fast asleep in their hotel rooms.

None of them had managed to grab onto the chance to go home just yet, they're halfway across the country at the moment. He figures they'll all start planning trips home early tomorrow morning. Or more, in a couple of hours now.

George wraps the comforter around him, shuffling from the window sill and over to the couch instead. His eyes are constantly drooping, completely dry with exhaustion, George can't remember the last time he had a coffee, sometime around eight maybe.

And though he feels ready to collapse at any moment, his body's just so apprehensive that all he can do is stare blankly ahead of him at the television.

That's when the first crack of thunder comes. Of course it does.

George’s body almost jumps from its skin, becoming a little more anxious. He wraps himself up a little tighter, trying to create a small cocoon of warmth and protection as he shudders beneath the blanket.

He really hates the fact that a little thunder and lightning can reduce him to this… this _thing_. Some scared little child that has to hide beneath his blankets, have them wrapped around his head in hopes that he won't be able to hear the storm raging outside. The rain strikes against the windows and he burrows even farther under the covers, trying to block out the thunderous noise. There’s a particularly loud boom of thunder and George swears it physically rattles the windows this time.

He turns the volume up and tries to focus on the trashy reality blaring out at him. But they do pretty much nothing for him now. Doesn’t even catch his interest really, even if the storm wasn’t raging outside. It seems as though most channels decide that they’ll only play the decent things during daytime. 

George can’t even focus on the screen, because it’s just that awful.

It takes a long while, but he soon feels himself beginning to drift off to sleep, finally. His eyes flutter shut, bright spots of light from the television dancing behind his eyelids.

So of course that's when the second jolt of thunder has to come blasting through the silence and echoing around the room. It’s only natural. Because the world hates him tonight and George doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this kind of a punishment. He likes to think he’s not upset anybody enough this week that’d warrant any form of karma.

George's eyes flash open and he grumbles out a curse as he pulls his body up from the couch and back over to the window to take another glance, looking for a sign that it might stop sooner or later. He hopes sooner.

Instead, the rain's coming down heavier now, large rivets pounding against the pavement and the window. Thunder rumbles again, louder, closer.

George stares through the glass, contemplating the pros and cons of going up to his own bed and trying to sleep through the noise. But then then next crash of sound comes through with the addition of a bright flashing light that splits the darkness at it's very seems.

Definitely more cons than pros he decides.

It starts to become a continuous cycle now, the thunder and the lightning, disrupting the eery silence of the room. Sending George's heart into overdrive as it pounds against his ribcage, pushing his already frayed nerves even more over the edge.

Everything just becomes a lot more noticeable, his mind hyper-aware of everything going on around him. The slight fuzzing noise of the television ringing in his ears, the rough scratch of the blanket becoming uncomfortable to the point he wants nothing more than to crawl out from his own skin.

Lightning, white-hot, bolting into the room leaving him temporarily stunned.

There's just no way George can make it to his room. Battle lost, he decides.

He silently pads his way down the hallway to Josh's room, trying carefully to avoid the awful creaks and groans of the hardwood floor, doesn’t want to wake everyone up. He peers through the half-open door, sees nothing but blackness. The air is still apart from the soft puffs of Josh's peaceful breaths and the slight rustle of sheets when he turns onto his side and buries his way further under the covers. Josh looks a lot comfier than George was, is.

So George does the only natural thing in his situation and climbs into the bed, positioning himself so that he hovers over Josh, staring at the side of the boys face.

He knows Josh has a funny thing about personal space when he’s sleeping, but figures Josh will make an exception just this once. Because Josh is powerless to George, will do anything he asks just to see a small smile on George’s face.

And George is only a _little_ ashamed to say he’s taken advantage of that many, many times before.

“Josh,” he whispers. He leans in closer, lips almost touching the lobe of his ear when he receives no reply. “Joshy.”

George groans in frustration and slides down under the covers anyway, the warmth being emitted from Josh’s body enclosing his own body and putting him at ease. Better than any blanket, he thinks.

He gets himself comfortable twisting around till he finds a position that’s nice enough for him to settle down in for the night. He doesn’t mean to ram his elbow into Josh’s back.

But when Josh jolts awake, George hides his smile in the pillow.

Because although it wasn’t intentional, Josh being awake means he gets cuddles, and George is alright with that. Doesn’t even feel remotely guilty because of it.

He blinks up at Josh who’s hair is sticking up in every which way across his forehead, eyes half-lidded with sleep.

“Gee?”Josh mumbles, bringing his hands up to scrub the sleep from his eyes and blinking a few times to adjust to the darkness. “What’re you doin’ here?”

George doesn’t really know how to answer that. He knows he doesn’t want to be in his own room, alone. Stuck listening to the sounds of nature wreaking havoc to the world outside. Okay, so maybe he does know the answer to that question. But he doesn't want to admit that he might be more than a little bit terrified of the storm because he’s nineteen for christs sake. Nineteen year olds aren’t supposed afraid of storms, not in George’s experience. 

“Wanted a Gosh cuddle,” he says instead, shoving Josh’s limbs out of the way and nuzzling against his chest.

Josh maneuvers to accommodate him, like George knew he would. And George grins in triumph as Josh’s arms slip around his waist, a warm and comforting presence.

“And you needed a cuddle at three in the morning?” Josh asks with an amused tone, voice fond. “You’re a right bloody monkey, you know?” 

George grins and scoots closer to Josh, nudging his nose against the warm skin on his neck and inhales a deep breath.

Thunder and lightning crack the sky open once more and George is helpless to the shiver that racks through his body, only to tense moments later when he hears Josh’s soft chuckles.

“Is that what this is all about, Georgie? A little bit of harmless rain?” Josh lets out another soft laugh, raspy with tiredness. “And here I was left thinking that you were just trying to sneak into my bed to take advantage of me.”

“M’not scared,” George mumbles, his deep voice muffled by the soft fabric of Josh’s shirt. “It’s just getting a little cold in here.”

Another rumble.

George grips onto Josh’s shirt, tighter, fingers clenching until his nails are digging through the fabric and into Josh’s skin.

“Josh has got you,” Josh teases, running his fingers up and down the goosebumps that have popped up on George’s arms. “The interviewers and paps would love this story, yannoe.”

George pinches Josh’s waist, a silent warning. “You’re a complete twat, by the way,” he murmurs. 

“You love me anyway,” Josh smirks in return, his words slurred by a large yawn.

George nods in Josh’s shoulder, muttering a quiet, “yeah...I do.” Because, well, yeah. He does.

The thunder booms loudly in the background, making George nudge against Josh again because he can hear the boys breathing even out, a sign he’s about to drift off again. “Make me forget about it.”

“We could just carry on cuddling,” Josh starts, but George flicks his chin, because he needs more than a cuddle.

“Then what would you suggest, Shelley?” Josh scoffs, putting on a good act of being mildly insulted.

“Distract me. Sing to me,” George grins, his face lighting up in glee. Cheekbones and all.

“You hear me sing all the time.”

“Sing,” George demands, biting Josh’s shoulder and following him when Josh tries to squirm away. He’s not getting away that easy. George likes to think he’s a bit like a Koala when he latches onto someone, not letting go. 

“Sing, sing, sing,” he chants, voice growing louder with each time he repeats it.

“Fuck,” Josh breathes out. “You’re such a spoilt little brat.”

George smiles, knows Josh can feel his mouth lifting up into a smile against his collarbone. “That’s a yes.”

“ _So make me fall in love, even if I get hurt. I’ll be the only fool in the world._ ” George smirks, not even bothering to hide it, pleased that he’s coaxed Josh into singing for him. He taps out the rhythm across the soft skin of Josh’s stomach. “ _Just make me fall in love, in love, in love-_ ”

“ _In love,_ ” George joins in on the last line, giggling softly.

“Another one, longer,” George instructs, breath hot, mouth forming the words against Josh’s skin.

“Sing to yourself, Monkey. M’tired now..” Josh insists through a yawn.

“It’s not my fault you’re doing a shit job of making me forget about the storm,” George tells him. His mouth settles back over Josh’s collarbone, and he bites it playfully, tongue grazing the spot after to soothe it.

George grins when he hears Josh’s sharp inhale, shifts their bodies until George is sprawled out on top of him, hips aligned.

Josh stares up at him and George can feel the others heart pounding against his chest. “What do you suggest then?” he hears Josh ask, eyes now wide awake with his pupils on their way to being semi-blown.

And fuck. All that from a simple bite?

The lightning comes in, lighting up the room, but more importantly Josh’s face. A mixture of curiosity, concern and lust. George isn’t sure how much longer he can handle Josh looking at him like that.

The thunder is almost nothing but a background noise by now, especially in comparison to their heavy breathing, the loud swallow George takes as he leans in closer, closer to Josh.

“I need-” George cuts himself off, voice sticking to the back of his throat. “No, I-”

“George,” Josh says, and George wishes he could stop the way his eyes track the movement of Josh’s mouth, lips parted, open, ready. Slightly wet from where he’s been biting them.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s _okay,_ ” Josh repeats, louder and firmer this time. And that’s all the warning George gets before Josh is surging forwards and attaching his lips to George’s. It’s soft, just their mouths sliding together sloppily and inexperienced. George is a bit too shocked to respond properly, instead closes his eyes when Josh pulls back. But George needs more, wants more, and pushes forward, an almost embarrassing needy whine emitting from his mouth. 

He can feel Josh’s smug grin against his lips, but he doesn't care. Because, fuck, there’s not anything that could ruin this moment right now. He’s waited to long for this, knew what he wanted from Josh that first time they shared a room during the live show. A tickle fight that oh-so-nearly escalated into more.

“Georgie, you alright?” he hears Josh mumble, tucking George’s face under his jaw. He could feel Josh’s deep breaths being exhaled out of his nose, the air hitting the top of his head.

“Gee,” he hears again, and shit. He should probably answer..but he doesn’t know what to say. Too afraid of saying the wrong thing.

He feels Josh moving around beneath him and then there’s a hand pinching around his nipple, making the boy jump.

“ _Ow_ , hey. What was that for?” George grumbles, rubbing over the sensitive bud.

“You weren’t responding so I had to take action,” Josh explains, as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world. “Desperate measure.” He confirms.

“So you pinch my nipple?” George asks incredulously, moving his hand away from his chest to rest upon Josh’s hip.

“Did that work though?” Josh teases, letting out a snort of laughter when George nips his bottom lip in response. “Forgotten about the storm yet?”

“Almost,” George admits before adding on cheekily, “before you reminded me. Now I might need a bit more than just kisses...” George grins, grinding his hips down and positively radiating when he hears another sharp intake of breath from the boy beneath him.

“George,” Josh whispers, all hints of teasing gone. His fingers dig in roughly to George’s hips, holding him in place as he searches for George’s mouth again, more desperate this time.

They kiss messily as Josh presses his fingertips against every bare inch of George’s skin, marking him from top to bottom. George shivers at the cold, groaning into Josh’s mouth and pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as their lips part.

George’s hands fist into Josh’s shirt, uses the bunches between his hand to drag Josh closer. Can’t help the gasps he makes when he feels Josh grow hard underneath him, a constant stream of “Josh, please, fuck, Josh,” spills from his mouth like a mantra, throaty and a little hoarse. Like he’s not capable of forming full sentences, his brain turned to mush under the aid of Josh..

“God, fucking look at you. I want you so bad.” Josh whispers hoarsely.

Josh’s hands slip under George’s t-shirt and palms the bare skin of his back, his hands are cool. making a pleasant contrast to the flushed heat that’s vibrating George’s entire body.

George grinds down a little faster, dirtier, harder, a spike of pleasure flashing through him like the lightning outside. He’s found a decent rhythm now, quick and dirty as he pushes his hips down into Josh’s.

Josh breaks the kiss to throw his head back, full force back into the pillow. George isn’t one to waste time and miss an opportunity, he sinks his teeth into Josh’s neck, nipping away at the tender flesh..

It’s a bit odd, he knows. But he likes to bite people, not too hard, usually. He used to bite Jaymi when he’d go in for a tickle, even used to do it to Ella when she’d try and mess up his hair, a quick nip to the fingertips.

Josh doesn’t seem to mind so much, George can tell because of the small whimpers Josh lets out everytime he does it.

“Shit, George,” Josh pants out, “are you _trying_ to kill me?”

George nods, too focused on sucking a mark into Josh’s skin to answer any other way. He meant to say no, actually. He doesn’t want to kill Josh. George likes Josh, Josh makes him feel good.

But his mind is hazy, dizzy with pleasure that George is sure has been building up since he met Josh for the first time at bootcamp. 

Josh‘s fingertips dig deep into George’s hips, sure to leave purple splotches that George will stroke his hands over and poke at the tender skin until they start to fade. A reminder that tonight did happen, this is real.

George likes it, the idea of being bruised, marked, especially by Josh.

And honestly, his mind is so blurry with need and desire that he barely registers the pain, too caught up in the moment. A small part of his brain is telling him that it’ll probably ache by the time morning rolls around. George ignores that part of his brain.

He hear’s Josh’s breath hitch and somehow knows he’s close. 

Neither are strong enough to kiss anymore, Josh being too lost in the pleasure of George’s thrusts and George himself too exerted and sweaty from pushing his hips forward relentlessly. Their mouths are still together but they’re not so much as kissing as they are panting into the other’s mouth, their hoarse breathing releasing itself in shallow bursts against lips. 

When Josh’s breath travels to the tip of his nose and he can no longer feel Josh’s lips on his, George allows himself to open his eyes. And as his long lashes lift, he gasps, taking in the filthy image before him of Josh’s mouth, bruised and open and so fucking inviting, and George can no longer take it.Turns out Josh isn’t the only one who’s close.

So George speeds up, adds just a little bit more pressure, puffing out his moans into the collar of Josh’s shirt, feels the vibrations in Josh’s chest when he starts to lose it.

“ _George_.” He shudders slightly, mouth going slack. George can feel the aftershocks, feels Josh’s fingers trembling against him. He let’s out a soft curse, struggling to keep any sort of composure as he works through his own release. Josh’s name spills from his mouth in a constant stream of pleasure.

Josh holds him tight through it, hand stroking George’s back at the base of his spine and plants multiple kisses on his shoulder, neck, jaw and mouth. George collapses, panting heavily and eyes drooping.

There’s a moment of silence as they both struggle to get their breath back.

“I-was that good?” George whispers hesitantly, biting on his lower lip as he looks up at Josh through his lashes. And fuck, he and Josh both just got off in their pants like a couple of high school kids, at least that’s what he’s been told.

Josh seems to understand what he’s getting at though because his eyes become more alert, fixating on George, half in shock. “That was your first time?” He blurts out. “Christ, George. Why didn’t you tell me before all of...” he waves his arms around in the air, gesturing between the between the two of them, “that.”

George swallows, heavily. “No, I’m not-wasn’t-a virgin,” he mumbles, and feels rather than hears Josh’s laugh.

“You’re such a lying little shit, George.” Josh tells him, “and a bad one at that.”

And George shrugs, “s’not like that was _proper_ sex,” he huffs out.

Josh breathes out. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he repeats, “your first time...it’s supposed to be special.”

George bites his tongue at that, wants to tell Josh that it was special. It was special purely because of the fact that it was with Josh and not anyone else.

But he doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t want Josh to freak out. For all George knows, this could just be a one night stand, nothing more.

George isn’t sure he could handle that though because he really _really_ likes Josh. And after that, there’s no way he can go back to hiding his feelings.

Though, Josh has always been so patient, so understanding with George, that he think it may actually be impossible for things to get too weird between them.

So instead, George curls himself deeper into Josh’s side and ignores the stickiness of his pants. Figures he’ll sort that out in the morning when Josh kicks him out. If he goes now he’s not sure he’d be allowed to come back.

“You’re killing my afterglow,” he tells Josh. And it seems to work because Josh chuckles and the arm around his waist tightens.

“Yeah, okay.”

-

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfiction I've ever posted, um.
> 
> All mistakes are my own.


End file.
